


featherlight free and everlasting

by decadencethief



Category: The Starless Sea - Erin Morgenstern
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25580872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadencethief/pseuds/decadencethief
Summary: A story doesn’t end just because you’ve reached the final page.With Dorian by his side, Zachary Ezra Rawlins eases into the world after the Afterward.
Relationships: Dorian/Zachary Ezra Rawlins
Comments: 11
Kudos: 79





	featherlight free and everlasting

A story doesn’t end just because you’ve reached the final page.

A story doesn’t end just because a girl who’s not a bunny finds a man who’s not lost anymore, 

or because a Harbour finds its new Keeper, 

or because two friends find each other after years of separation.

So much Finding crammed between two honey-glazed pages of a book that will forever be preserved in the Starless Sea like an insect caught in amber. No one will read this book again. The people whose story it tells will have new stories to tell that will find their way into this new Harbour, days or months or years from now.

For the time being, people reunite with people and cats and an owl, all of them clustered around the threshold of a door that remains open. 

Zachary Ezra Rawlins’ new heart hasn’t stopped racing, pumping excitement and incredulity and relief through his system. He feels as though he’s stepping off an amusement park ride on legs that are too wobbly to support him.

Dorian’s hand never leaves his, as if he’ll disappear the moment the point of contact’s broken. Even as Kat throws her arms around Zachary’s neck, all laughter and tears and a too-big jacket the colour of a sunflower, Dorian remains linked with him, their fingers laced tightly together.

Most of them sleep at the Harbour that night, except for Maribel and the Keeper. She says he’s spent too much time underground and she’s spent too much time separated from him, and there’s a hotel nearby she’s checked them into. 

The Keeper’s blushing while she says this. Zachary would feel like he was infringing on a moment, but then he meets Dorian’s eyes, and he finds himself in another moment, one that makes his own face heat up.

The new Harbour has prepared rooms for them that are identical to their old ones, the ones in the Harbour before. There’s one for Kat too, but she insists on coming to Zachary’s, swearing that she won’t be letting him out of her sight again and that she’s got so much she wants to tell him, holy crap.

Dorian leaves them to catch up, excusing himself with the need for a long bath, but he still lingers at the door, his eyes on Zachary.

Zachary wants to stop him, but Dorian’s gone before he can find the words.

Kat’s elbow in his ribs snaps Zachary out of his thoughts. “You look like you’re never going to see him again.” 

“We keep getting separated,” he says, and the ache that fills his body at the thought of all the times they almost lost each other is almost enough to make him bolt out of his room and into Dorian’s.

“It’s okay,” Kat says. She bumps his shoulder with hers, and the casual affection of the gesture makes him smile despite himself. She’s right. His fear belongs in a story that’s already complete — even if he still lived through it and has to make peace with everything that entails.

His hand inches its way to his breastbone. The heart that wasn’t his but now is thrums below, rhythmic if a little bit quickened.

He slumps against Kat’s side, casting a sidelong look at her. She looks older. He still can’t wrap his head around having been gone for two years, but the sadness lurking in her eyes makes it feel real.

The panic swells inside him again, thick and sweet like honey. He’s missed so much. He’s going to be sick.

Zachary takes a slow breath. “I need to call my mother,” he says instead.

This iteration of the Harbour has reception, as he finds out when Kat hands him her phone. She’s got his mother’s number saved — a fact that makes him equally curious and embarrassed, but then he’s dialing the number and everything else fades from his mind.

His mother picks up as soon as the line connects.

She isn’t surprised to hear him.

She asks what happened and he says it’s a long story that he can’t tell over the phone and she asks when he will come home and tell it to her in person.

He promises to book the earliest flight he can.

She says he should bring Kat and the boy that he met. Zachary flushes and stutters, but it’s the good kind of embarrassment. The one that makes him feel all warm and bubbly on the inside.

He thinks that his mother is going to like Dorian.

His mother tells him she loves him and that she missed him so much, and Zachary can barely choke out an _I love you, too_ before his tears overwhelm him.

Kat rubs his back and lets him put himself together. It’s starting to dawn on him that this is real, that he made it here, and that there are more people who care about that than he ever would have thought.

It takes him an hour to stop crying.

Once he has, they use the dumbwaiter to get some drinks (he avoids thinking too hard about the Kitchen, lest the panic attack he’s been trying to contain finally bubble out of him), and they settle on his bed and talk. He wouldn’t have thought that Kat would believe anything that happened to him, but it seems like she’s had her fair share of odd experiences and doesn’t have any disbelief to suspend.

They’re both tired and there’s so much to say and before long, the conversation peters out and Kat is asleep on his shoulder.

Careful not to wake her up, he tips her over into the bed and wraps his wool comforter around her.

He takes the armchair in front of the fireplace.

He watches the firelight dance across a room that’s both new and familiar and his in a way that sets him on edge.

Sleep doesn’t come.

Two hours later, Zachary finds himself with his hand hovering in front of Dorian’s door. He wants to knock — wants to see him, to feel him close again — but he isn’t sure if that’s appropriate or welcome.

Part of him finds his hesitation ridiculous. He can still taste the desperate way Dorian kissed him back on Eleanor’s ship, he can feel his hand clutching his — he knows Dorian wants him, so why is this yet another door that he finds so hard to open? 

He’s about to knock when a rattle and a sharp cry coming from inside makes him throw the door open instead.

As Zachary rushes into the room, he thinks _it was supposed to be over_ and _things were supposed to be alright now,_ but mostly he thinks, _please don’t let him be hurt._

Dorian’s sat in front of the fireplace, long legs spread out towards the smouldering fire. There was a side table by his armchair, but now it’s lying on the floor, surrounded by the debris of a broken whisky glass. He must have knocked it over on accident. His eyes are wide with mute fear as he looks around and then at Zachary.

Zachary stops by the armchair, relieved to see him in one piece, but the way Dorian stares at him makes his new heart shatter in his chest. Fear and grief mixed in with something he’s afraid to name.

Zachary reaches out to touch Dorian’s shoulder. He startles for a moment, but the nightmare fades from his face. He leans into the touch, slightly at first and then with his entire body, sliding from his chair onto his knees to wrap his arms around Zachary’s waist and press his face into the thick wool of his sweater.

Zachary’s heart is about to burst out of his ribcage. He raises a trembling hand to run it through Dorian’s hair. It’s thick and soft, the loose curls parting for his fingers.

“I dreamed I’d lost you,” Dorian says, his voice muffled. “It was my fault again.”

Zachary closes his fingers around a fistful of dark hair to anchor himself against the memories of that lonely shore and everything that followed. Even when they come, the edge he braced for is absent, dulled by Dorian’s warmth against him and not quite able to pass through the shield of his arms. 

“I’m here,” Zachary murmurs around the lump that has lodged itself in his throat. _Here_ sounds like quietly crackling fire and Dorian’s slow, deliberate breathing and smells of leather and citrus and burning wood, and he finds that he quite likes it and would like to stay.

Dorian composes himself and climbs to his feet. Zachary barely has time to miss the touch before Dorian’s pulling him to the armchair. They sit down side by side, the downy cushion sinking beneath their weight so they end up pressed flush together. Dorian meets his eyes. The firelight illuminates the dark brown of his own, and for a moment, it seems like they’re glowing from within.

Dorian arches an eyebrow. The quizzical expression is belied by the smile that hides in the corner of his mouth. “See something you like, Zachary?” He’s using his storyteller voice and the way he purrs his name makes Zachary’s stomach clench.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” He leans in to steal a kiss, but quickly forgets that he means for it to be brief. Dorian’s hands chart Zachary’s back through his shirt, fingertips pressing where his muscles are clenched or sore, weaving a story from his shivers and sighs.

The transition between kissing Dorian and resting his head in the crook of his neck is as gradual as it is inevitable — the hour is late and the events of the past days have settled in their bones like a heavy weight. Dorian pulls a blanket around the two of them before his arms wind around Zachary’s waist again. 

“I could get used to this,” Zachary mumbles, slurred and sleepy.

“Me too.” Dorian kisses his forehead. “We’ll have plenty of time to.”

The thought is as comforting as the rumble of Dorian’s voice under his cheek. 

On the cusp of sleep, Zachary thinks about harbours and how sometimes, they can be people.

He can’t wait to introduce Dorian to his mother.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't stopped thinking about this book and I don't think I will anytime soon, so I hope you enjoyed this attempt to express my feelings about its wonderful characters. You can find me on Twitter [@decadencethief](https://twitter.com/decadencethief).
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Title is from Want To Be Free by British Sea Power.


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